Unwelcome visitor
by Celonhael
Summary: Miroku receives an unwelcome visitor.
1. Chapter 1

It was very early morning, the sky just beginning to lighten. A hot, dry wind was blowing. Leaves that had withered and died on the branch were picked up and tossed about, littering the air and ground. Dust blew from the dry paths, flinging dirt and grit into faces.  
Even the birds seemed to avoid the ground, remaining high in the air or clinging to the branches. The few that remained, that was. A great many left, seeking shelter somewhere else, flying to places with less wind, or at least less dry.  
The man stood in the middle of the clearing, his long black scalp lock blowing in the wind, snapping like a whip. A single ice-green eye watched the shorter man before him. Half his face was covered with a silver mask that covered his other eye as well. He wore black clothing - plain pants and boots, with leather thongs wrapped about the shins to keep the pants from billowing too much. A simple shirt. But while the cut was simple, the clothing looked more like a soldier's uniform than anything else.  
The man standing before him was shorter, and a little plumper, but by no means fat. He had a very stern face, and wore an outfit similar to the other man's, excepting his was a very dark grey. There was a black design on the back, looking like some strange wheel.  
"Why did you call me here, Omek?" the tall man asked. He took a hold of his scalp lock, holding it to keep it from striking the other man in the face.  
The shorter man, Omek, grinned. He reached inside his clothing, and pulled out a small glass vial, "I have a little job for you, Jemu."  
Jemu scowled - an effect made more grim-looking by the half-mask, "I need no help."  
"Master says you do. And I am in no position to argue. Take this. Go to where _they_ are sleeping, and open it."  
Jemu took the black vial, peering into it. Something inside seemed to move, to shift. He grimaced with distase again, "And then what?"  
"Just tip it over, onto it's side. _Gently_. Don't shake up what's inside...you wouldn't like it."  
The vial was no longer than his thumb, "And that's it? Just open it and tip it over? What's inside, poison?"  
"No. Just take it and do as I say."  
Jemu scowled, pocketing the vial, "As you wish. How goes the Master's preparations for the invasion?"  
Omek crossed his arms, grinning, "Well enough. The attack on the Celestial Plane was a success. Master was able to test their defenses. They did not expect us to attack the Celestial Plane itself, the fools. And without Izumi to rally them, many Senmin panicked. Now they are in doubt. Things go well."  
Jemu watched Omek with disdain, "Those same Senmin were once your friends. You were once one of them. You seem to take delight in their panic."  
Omek's face darkened, and he spoke, "Who do you think you are talking to, Jemu? Do not forget I am above you! Do not forget who is the Master's favourite."  
Jemu said nothing, merely turned, and walked away from Omek, feeling the small black vial in his pocket.  
The Shadeling moved through the forest, dark thoughts in his head. Omek was the Master's favourite, yes...but that position had once been held by Muzan.  
The thought of the woman gave the Shadeling pain, and he clenched his fists.  
Muzan.  
The beautiful woman who had once commanded them. She had been Keimetsu's favourite, his vassal.  
Jemu had felt his heart stir the moment he saw her, the moment she had come to him to offer him a place in Keimetsu's forces. Muzan had travelled among other planes and realms, searching for those with power who would join her Master in the conquoring of this plane. Jemu had been one of the first she had sought out.  
He had tried to catch her eye, to prove himself to her, to show her what he was capable of. He had hoped that she would have seen how much he admired her, how much he thought of her, and dreamed she would reciprocate.  
She had been pleased when he had succeeded in tearing away the woman's soul, taking part of Kagome's life force and soul, and imprisoning it inside a sapphire. They had been trying to get the Shikon away from from the small group. Jemu himself hadn't known why Keimetsu wanted the thing - he was more powerful than the small stone - but he had been asked to get it from Kagome. It had been an easy enough thing to litter the land with his special gems, waiting for her to simply touch one.  
His entire plan would have worked. Kagome would tell her friends nothing of what had happened, and they would continue to collect the pieces of the Shikon. Once it was finished, she would bring it to Jemu, and he would give it to Muzan.  
Only something had gone wrong. Somehow, some _way_, the others had found out what had happened, and they had dared to attack him. There had been a fight, and he had lost the sapphire. The cursed Kitsune child had grabbed it.  
The giant demon feline had attacked, destroying half his face, cursing him to wear the half mask for the rest of his existance.  
Muzan had been dissapointed. Jemu had seen it in her face. And even though he had asked for another chance, it hadn't been enough to regain anything he had lost in her eyes.  
Jemu moved silently through the forest.  
Then...Muzan had been lost.  
She had turned from them. She had tried to go back to Izumi, go back to who she had been, long ago, another Handmaiden of Amaterasu. And had been slain.  
By Keimetsu.  
Jemu did not know how Keimetsu had known. It was possible that the Master had been able to read her heart, but Jemu himself suspected treachery. Omek had threatened her once before.  
Well...Omek was on the top now...but as he himself said to Muzan...that just meant he had much further to fall.  
Jemu slowed as he came to the small clearing where he knew the four friends slept. Easing himself closer, he peered into the clearing.  
There they were, the fools. Sleeping.  
The three humans were lying on the ground, covered in a light sheet, a tarpulin erected to keep the flying dust and dirt from them. The Kitsune child was most likely sleeping with one of the women.  
The hanyou was seated back against a tree, arms crossed, asleep. Of the four of them, Jemu knew he had to be the most careful of the hanyou. He had exceptional hearing and vision, not to mention a good sense of smell.  
The latter had been overcome by approaching downwind of the group. With the wind blowing, the hanyou should only smell him if he got too close. Which he had no intention of doing.  
Likewise - hopefully - his hearing would be limited due to the wind as well.  
Jemu took out the small vial from his pocket, peering at it again.  
It was so small. How could it do any damage?  
He bent, and laid it on the ground, in some grass, where it couldn't blow away. He carefully uncorked it, and eased it over onto it's side.  
For a moment, nothing happened. No liquid came out, no gas. Nothing.  
He thought, for a moment, the vial was empty.  
After a second, a blackness started to ooze from the lip of the vial. It was sluggish, thick. Like molassas, it drifted out of the vial, puddling on the edge.  
It suddenly moved faster, now oozing out to gather in front of the vial. It seemed to quiver for a moment, and Jemu was suddenly struck with the realization it was somehow _alive_.  
It had no eyes, but it moved away from the vial, and now it looked like nothing more than a giant, glistening, black slug.  
Quickly, disgustingly quick, it oozed away from Jemu, making it's way into the clearing with the four sleeping in the clearing.  
Jemu stood, though slightly crouched, and watched, curious. What the hell was that?  
It oozed over the ground, approaching the closest sleeper, the youngest woman. Kagome.  
The small glistening slug-like thing approached her face, and seemed to study her. Mere inches from her face, it quivered, studying, then left.  
It slid on to the next, the other woman.  
Likewise, it remained near her, oozing it's way around her, leaving no trail, studying her. It almost seemed to sniff the air.  
It turned, oozing away.  
It approached the hanyou, gliding up around a foot. It moved to the hanyou's hip, remaining still, studying.  
Perhaps it had a smell after all. Or perhaps the hanyou could sense the alien-ness of it.  
An ear flicked, a slight furrow of the brow.  
Jemu cursed, and hunched down.  
But the thing had no interest in the hanyou, and turned, oozing away. The sleeping hanyou mumured something in his sleep, settling down again, getting more comfortable.  
The thing oozed towards the monk, gliding around his sleeping back, towards his face.  
It seemed to quiver, perhaps smelling something, and moved closer. It glided towards one outstretched hand, a hand covered with a cloth gauntlet.  
The small black slug-like thing moved towards the hand, and one end seemed to nose around, and then slipped beneath the cloth gauntlet.  
Jemu watched, curious, as the small black thing oozed it's way under the cloth gauntlet, going, going, gone, until it vanished from sight.  
The monk stirred, rolling over, pulling the sheet higher around him, and settled back to sleep again.  
Jemu stayed a few minutes longer, to see if anything would happen, but nothing did, and after a while, he slipped away again, into the shadows.

A few hours later, the wind died down, and the sun rose. Rain was promised in the air, a cool feeling, slightly damp, leaving farmers and non-farmers alike praying for rain.  
Kagome tucked her sleeping roll into her backpack, and tightened the straps. She stood up, looking out over the forest.  
The trees were turning brown again, leaves having withered.  
_It's almost December. Summer turned into fall, and just stayed there. Then it started back into summer. Now it just yo-yos back and forth. Little rain. Everything's so dry.  
If winter comes back with a hurry, everything will die of shock. All the trees, all the crops..._  
Hearing laughter, Kagome turned to see Sango laughing at Miroku.  
Kirara was halfway up the monk's back, clinging with her small claws, trying to make her way to his shoulder. Miroku was trying to help her, but his face was indicating the claws weren't just catching cloth.  
"Easy Kirara, there's flesh under there," Miroku gasped.  
Sango tried to help, but Kirara was determined to do it herself, and only scrabbled faster.  
After a second of scrabbling and clinging, she made it to the monk's shoulder, and perched there, looking very pleased with herself.  
Sango laughed, "Are you ok, Miroku?"  
"Nothing that can't heal," he said, sounding a little pained, "Her claws are very sharp..."  
"I tried to cut them once," Sango said, rolling up her backpack.  
"How did that go?"  
"Not well," she laughed again, "She was terribly offended. She never bit me, nor growled, but she made her displeasure well known. Refused to let me pick her up for 2 days. I've never tried it again."  
"I'll take that as fair warning then," he smiled at her.  
Kagome, watching them, smiled herself. After Sango gave Miroku his mother's jewelry box as a gift, they seemed to be getting closer still. Sango no longer seemed to blush quite as much as she used to when the monk smiled at her, or spoke softly to her. A compliment still made her pretty face red, though, and Kagome thought if Miroku ever tried to embrace her she might actually faint. But she was obviously getting more comfortable with Miroku's apparent feelings for her.  
They left the village they had been staying at, searching out a dangerous demon, and started back towards Kaede's village.  
It was light banter, talking comfortably with each other, sometimes long silences as well. But it was the comfortable silence that only close friends can share, where nothing is said, yet each knew the other so well, they knew no one was worried, or unhappy, or uneasy about anything. Everyone was relaxed, and at ease.  
"Don't forget," Kagome announced, as they walked, "I'm bringing you guys home next week, for some home cooking and a shower and some spoiling by mom."  
"Are you certain your mother won't mind us all arriving at once, Kagome?" Miroku asked, rubbing absently at his hand, "Four people suddenly showing up like that..."  
"Trust me," Kagome smiled, "Mom is looking forward to it. She's planning out a huge meal, getting a lend of a neighbour's table...she's enjoying planning all this."  
"It's so much bother for her," Sango murmured.  
"You don't know Kagome's mother," InuYasha said, "She loves to go all out like this."  
Kagome smiled at him.  
"Well, I certainly won't say no to a home-made meal," Miroku smiled, flexing his hand, "Nor having one of these _showers_ InuYasha has been telling me about."  
"It's kinda weird at first," the hanyou admitted, "It's like standing under a really small waterfall in a huge white bucket."  
"Miroku," Sango said softly, "You keep rubbing your hand. Your fingers aren't hurting again, are they?"  
"Hmm? Oh no, not at all," he looked down at his gauntleted hand, "My hand is itchy for some reason."  
"Grandpa says that means money will cross your palm," Kagome smiled.  
The monk grinned, "I won't say no to that, either!"

They made their way back to Kaede's, talking about planning their next move.  
"The only thing I want to do is find Jemu," InuYasha said, "He's the last Shadeling."  
"That we know of," Sango replied.  
"Thanks," InuYasha complained.  
"What do you think will happen when we defeat Jemu?" Sango asked quietly, "Do you think Keimetsu will attack?"  
"I don't know." Kagome said, "Izumi said that the Shadelings were like the Shock troops of Keimetsu. I'm not a general, but I know that once the shock troops go through, or die, the regular soldiers move in. I'm not sure what form they'll take."  
"Who cares?" InuYasha growled, "When they show up, we'll kill them too!"  
Miroku laughed, "Ever the optimist, our InuYasha."  
They walked on, talking lowly.  
Miroku, as he walked, looked down at his hand.  
His palm itched, under the cloth gauntlet, around where the Wind Tunnel lay.  
He scratched at it through the Wind Tunnel. The itch eased back, but it remained there.  
He frowned. Why on earth was his hand itchy?  
He felt a moment's fear that perhaps this was it. Perhaps, despite the wisdom of Kaede, Akira, and the other sages, his Wind Tunnel _would_ grow and overwhelm him as Naraku had originally planned. Once Naraku was killed, the threat of the Wind Tunnel growing and killing him vanished, although he had had it too long. He would never be rid of it. Nor would he pass it to any children. It had been a comfort, knowing on his death it would just fade.  
But perhaps the sages were wrong. Or else, now that Naraku was back, his Wind Tunnel was out of control again?  
No. Izumi had told him that despite his return, Naraku's creation of the Wind Tunnel was over and done with.  
Then why this odd itching? He doubted a flea or mosquito could bite him through the gauntlet, and if it had gotten _under_ the gauntlet it would have been sucked in.  
He rubbed his palm with a thumb.  
Despite having it all his life, Miroku hated the feel of it. When he touched his palm, he could _feel_ the absense there, the gap. The hole.  
The void.  
If he really poked around, he could feel the edges of the void, but it always made him feel somewhat queasy, actually _poking_ at it like that.  
He rubbed it again, wondering if, in some strange way, it had become infected or injured.  
"Miroku?" Sango's voice brought him back to the present, and he looked up.  
"Coming," he smiled, and caught up.  
Back in Kaede's village, they went back Kaede's village. The old woman, and Izumi, were sitting on the porch, talking. When they saw the small group, they fell silent. InuYasha, suspicious as always, went on alert.  
"What's going on?"  
"Nothing," Izumi smiled, "How did the hunting go?"  
"Easy enough," Miroku replied, sitting beside Izumi after shaking out his robes.  
InuYasha watched Izumi warily. Why did women always say "nothing", when it was always obviously _something_? If you were talking, and shut up when someone walked into the room, that wasn't 'nothing', it was 'something'.  
He snorted, suddenly in a bad mood.

The day passed on. There was nothing to do, so Kagome's group saw to smaller chores that needed doing, and it was always a good idea to see to them when they had time. For the most part, it consisted of making sure weapons and armor were repaired and in good shape.  
Kagome's sword had been sharpened a while back, and since it hadn't really seen any action for a while, really had nothing to do. She wore no armor, and the Shikon needed no tending. So she set about mending some tears and restocking the small first aid kits everyone carried with them.  
Miroku had just finished setting some sutras to dry when a woman from the village approached and asked for some help. Her sister had just given birth, and wanted the child blessed.  
He agreed to help, and followed her back into the village proper, leaving the others to keep tending their weapons.  
The service was a simple one; he asked the good spirits and the ancestors to keep a watch over the child, using blessed herbs and incense to cleanse the child's new soul. The parents were very happy, and paid him with some coins, a rare payment.  
Miroku left the smiling family, a slight frown on his face.  
His hand had started itching terribly during the ritual, and it had been all he could do to keep himself from scratching wildly at it. It almost ached at the same time, like a bad flea bite. He was starting to worry that perhaps it _had_ become infected somehow.  
Normally, Miroku wouldn't worry too much about it. If it were his other hand that was acting that way, he would simply ask Kagome and Lady Kaede to have a look at it. But he simply didn't really trust anything to do with the Wind Tunnel, and it certainly wasn't something that could be examined at ease.  
The monk also had a deep desire to keep his hand covered.  
Time had passed, and his friends had accepted him into their hearts and souls, refusing to leave his side even though at one time there was a real possibility that the hole in his hand might just one day expand and destroy him and anyone near him. As he had told the head monk - the _non-existant_ head monk that Neith had made him see during his trials - his friends meant more to him than anything else in his life - even his own vows - because they _had_ accepted him so readily. Even as a monk, on more than one occasion, when Miroku had revealed the Wind Tunnel in his hand, he had been asked politely - and often impolitely - he had been told to leave the village. No one wanted a man with a hold in his hand that sucked everything and anything into it. On two occasions, he had even been _driven_ from a village, when it was discovered, once pelted with garbage. He never spoke of it to his friends, but the Wind Tunnel had been a blight to him in more ways than one as he wandered.  
So even now, after all that had happened, Miroku was still somewhat hesitant to just talk about it, even with his friends. He thought of it was a weapon, nothing more, nothing less, and used it when necessary, and tried to forget about it afterwards.  
Which was why he called for Mikado's assistance when he was near the forest, and no where near his friends.  
She appeared a short while later, looking a little harried, her hair a little disarrayed, "What's up?"  
Miroku suddenly felt foolish. He had forgotten what the Senmin was doing, especially after the attack on the Celestial Plane, and he asked her here for a very unimportant request.  
"Lad - er...Mikado. I was wondering if...ah..."  
"What is it, Miroku?"  
"I...I'm sorry, Mikado, I fear I forgot how busy you've been. I shouldn't have asked you down here for something unimportant."  
Mikado crossed her arms, but grinned, "If you had to ask me down here, I doubt it's unimportant. What is it?"  
"I...I'm worried about...my Wind Tunnel."  
The smile left her face, and she lowered her arms, "What's wrong?"  
He explained what was going on, quickly assuring her he doubted it was just some mosquito bite or allergy.  
Mikado nodded, "Alright, I'm with you so far. But I really don't know anything about these...Voids, Miroku. Izumi would probably know a little more, but even then. I mean, nothing personal, but a person with a hole to nowhere stuffed into their bodies isn't exactly common enough even for a Senmin to encounter."  
"No...I understand. I supposed you might say if anyone can be called an 'expert' on this, it would be me. However, I could use your help in checking on it."  
Mikado nodded, "Alright, what do you need me to do?"  
"Well...as you probably know, once the gauntlet and prayer beads are off, it truly opens. I've never been able to just look into it without the risk of literally sucking myself in. A prospect I would rather avoid."  
"No doubt," Mikado smiled.  
"I -could- look at it with the prayer beads on and the cloth removed, but even then, there's a sort of...coating over it. I simply get as good a look as I need."  
Mikado nodded, "You want me to make some sort of barrier over it, don't you?"  
Miroku nodded, "Just so, yes. As a Senmin, I'm sure you can make some sort of invisible shield that would cover the Wind Tunnel while I actually have it open so I could see if anything is wrong."  
A motion from the corner of his eye caught the monk's attention, and he turned to see Izumi walking towards them. For a second he almost panicked, thinking everyone was showing up, but he saw the woman was alone.  
"I called Izumi to come out," Mikado said gently, "As I said, she might know more about this than I do."  
Miroku nodded.  
They waited for Izumi to join them, then Miroku quickly brought her up to speed.  
"And what is it you expect to see, Miroku?" Izumi asked.  
"I don't know, to be honest," Miroku said, "I'm afraid...well..."  
He fell silent, and they quietly waited.  
Miroku raised his hand, staring at the cloth that covered his palm, "I'm afraid I might see the edges growing, or somehow split or cracked. Some sign it might be growing afterall."  
Izumi nodded. Amaterasu had told her, and she had told Miroku herself, that the Wind Tunnel would not grow, nor enlarge. But she understood the monk's need to just check it, reassure himself everything was ok.  
"Give me your hand, Miroku," Mikado said.  
Miroku held out his hand, and the Senmin took it. She turned it over, palm up, and concentrated.  
Miroku felt a warm feeling emcompass his hand, as if it were put into a warm container or box. He couldn't feel any wind or breeze on his hand.  
"Alright, there you go."  
Miroku took a breath and reached in to his other hand. He quickly pulled back the cloth gauntlet and removed the prayer beads.  
He felt the Wind Tunnel spring to life, but it felt odd, as it wasn't drawing in anything.  
The three people leaned in, peering at the Wind Tunnel.  
The hole in the man's hand sat in the center of his palm, a black hole to nowhere. The very edges of the hole seemed slightly blurred, no real sharp edge to the hole like one would see in a hole dug into the ground.  
The flesh around the hole certainly looked ok, normal flesh tone. It seemed healthy, there was no redness or any sign of irritation.  
Miroku slightly crinked his fingers, moving his hand gently.  
He suddenly felt the cooler air on his fingers, and he gasped, reaching for the prayer beads.  
"It's ok," Mikado interrupted him, "I'm just shrinking down the shield a little.."  
Warily, he lowered his hand again, and once again, three heads bent over the hand.  
"I don't see anything," Izumi said gently, "At least nothing that I would notice as trouble. Do you notice anything, dear?"  
Miroku shook his head, "No, I..."  
He fell silent, blinking. For a second, just a second, he thought he had seen something _move_ inside. A sort of blackness against the blackness.  
Narrowing his eyes, Miroku leaned closer, looking deep into the Wind Tunnel, a view he had never really had the luxury of seeing before.  
There was only a dark blackness there, an utter and true _nothingness_. Not for the first time, the monk wondered just _where_ the hole in his hand led.  
Suddenly, something moved again, and in the center of the blackness in the palm of his hand, a red eye opened, and glared back at the monk, triangular pupil as black as the void around it.


	2. Heading to the Council

Everyone recoiled.  
Miroku hollared in shock, jerking backwards in shock, as if he could lunge away from his own hand.  
When he fell backwards, he pulled his hand out of the small, invisible barrier Mikado had made, and the Wind Tunnel roared to life.  
Hollaring in shock again, Miroku grabbed his wrist with his other hand, instinctively pointing his hand away from Izumi and Mikado.  
For a second, he stood there, heart pounding, trying to get himself under control, his Wind Tunnel pulling in leaves, brush, grass, and rocks.  
He grabbed the prayer beads, wrapping them tightly around his wrist, shutting down the Wind Tunnel.  
Everyone stood, stunned.  
Miroku found his voice, and turned, looking back at Izumi and Mikado, eyes wide,  
_"What was that!?"_ he cried, horrified, his voice cracking.  
Mikado and Izumi looked at each other, faces pale. They exchanged a glance.  
"You know what it is!" the monk cried, fighting down the terror, swallowing it down.  
Izumi looked at Mikado, then at Miroku, and spoke softly, "It's a Void Dweller, I'm pretty sure. The only thing I have heard of with a triangular pupil like that."  
"A...a Void Dweller. What is it doing in my _hand_?"  
Mikado tried to speak calmly, "Well. I don't know. I don't see how it could possibly have gotten _in_ there."  
"What _is_ it?" Miroku demanded, eyes wide, holding his offending hand by the wrist, as if it might rise up and start choking him, "What's a Void Dweller? And how do I get it _out_?"  
Mikado looked at Izumi, and the older woman spoke, "I...I don't really know anything about them, dear. They're very rare, and I've never actually _seen_ one. I've only heard of them,"  
She could see the monk was trying very hard not to panic, and the fact he hadn't yet was impressive.  
"Then please tell me what you _do_ know, before I start screaming."  
"Void Dwellers are creatures that live in the Voids between worlds. Do you remember when I told you that the planes of existance are like all the different floors of a very tall building?"  
"Like...like one of those buildings in Kagome's city, yes."  
"Yes. Well...if you can imagine there are small gaps in _between_ those floors. Those gaps are Voids. There is nothing in them, no air, no light, nothing. They surround every plane of existance. Void Dwellers live _in_ those Voids. That's where they exist. I...I cannot see how one got inside your hand."  
"Well how do I get it _out_?"  
Mikado and Izumi exchanged another look, and the panic that threatened to consume the monk grew again.  
"Lady Izumi?! Mikado?!"  
"I'm not sure, dear-"  
"_Not sure-!_"  
"But I know people who will!" she quickly said, trying to keep Miroku calm, "I know some very smart people who can tell us more about Void Dwellers and how we can get rid of this one. We'll go straightaway and talk to them."  
Miroku swallowed, and nodded.  
"Let's head back and get the others," Mikado said.  
Miroku paused, and spoke, "I...I would rather not, actually."  
They looked at him.  
Miroku felt oddly defensive, but spoke gently, "They have stood beside me all the while my hand was a risk to them. They worried about me when my fingers were broken and hurting. I would rather not bring yet another problem to them, related to my hand."  
"Miroku," Izumi gently chided, "They would not feel the same, you know that."  
"I do," the monk answered, "All the more reason to save them from this harassment. Besides...I'd rather they simply not know I have some sort of...void...parasite...living in my hand."  
"Well, what shall I tell them?" Mikado said, "After giving InuYasha hell about taking off without a note, I doubt you want to do the same."  
"Just...that...I have something to do...something personal...and that I will be back as soon as I can."  
Izumi sighed softly, but nodded, "I'll tell them."  
"Aren't you coming, Izumi?" Mikado asked.  
Izumi turned, looking at Mikado, suddenly looking irritated, "I can't travel that way anymore, remember?"  
Mikado laughed, "Maybe not, but _I_ can carry you the same way I'll carry Miroku."  
Izumi suddenly looked sheepish, and a little cross with herself. It hadn't come to her at all that Mikado could pick her up and travel with her the way she used to carry others. Izumi was used to being the _carrier_, not the _carried_.  
"I could use your help, Izumi," Mikado said quietly, "You know more about all this than I do. You know the Council better than I do."  
"That's if they even let me see them," Izumi said, suddenly bitter, "Now that I'm a human."  
"You're still Izumi," Mikado said, "Now come on. I'll toss a word to Sango, let her know we need to 'borrow' Miroku, and we'll be off."  
Izumi sighed, but nodded.  
Miroku looked at Izumi, trying to put his own worries out of his head for a few minutes. It must be hard for the woman right now, to no longer have any of her powers. As Mikado spoke mentally to Sango, Izumi turned to Miroku.  
As if she had read his mind, she smiled weakly at the monk, and spoke.  
"Miroku, dear...I know you're ... ah... preoccupied at the moment, but when you have time...could you spare me some of your wisdom?"  
Miroku blinked, startled and confused, "Lady Izumi?"  
"Later, dear," Izumi smiled at him, and turned to Mikado.  
"Ok, all done," Mikado said, grinning, "We just have to wait for someone to catch up, and then we'll be off."  
"Wait for someone?" Izumi asked.  
Mikado nodded, but said nothing more.  
Miroku started to grow uneasy. He hadn't wanted anyone to come with them, why had Mikado allowed someone to join them?  
A few minutes later, a familiar roar echoed overhead, and the three of them looked up to see Kirara angling down. The giant feline landed with a thump a short distance away, and leapt. She morphed into her tiny form mid-air, landing neatly in the monk's arms.  
"Kirara?" Miroku blinked.  
"Sango insisted," Mikado laughed, "When I explained it was private, that you didn't want anyone there, she told me in no uncertain terms, that in that case, Kirara was coming, as extra protection. Apparently, Kirara is _very_ good at not blabbing secrets."  
In his arms, Kirara gave her unique little mew.  
Miroku smiled.  
Mikado put her hands on her hips, grinning, "I don't know which I should feel more - insulted Sango thinks I can't handle anything that comes our way, or all gooey and fuzzy inside that she's worried about you _regardless_ being with us."  
Miroku felt his face heat up, but only smiled charmingly at the Senmin, "Both would be fine, I'm sure."  
Kirara purred.  
"Well, time's wasting," Mikado said, "Let's go."

They walked to another clearing, and the young woman turned to the others, and held out her hands.  
Izumi took one of her hands, and spoke gently, "Has your transporting improved, dear?"  
Mikado suddenly looked somewhat annoyed, "_Yes_. It has."  
"Oh good," Izumi smiled.  
Miroku, taking one of Mikado's hands, looked at Izumi with a somewhat worried look on his face.  
"Oh, it was nothing," Izumi said, smiling slightly, "Except one time Mikado transported several people at once and their bodies ended up all mixed together."  
Miroku stared.  
"That didn't happen!" Mikado said hotly, "Their _clothing_ got mixed up, not their bodies!"  
Izumi laughed.  
Miroku smiled weakly at Izumi, "Please don't say things like that, Lady Izumi. My heart can't take too much more."  
"Forgive me, Miroku."  
Mikado snorted, very like InuYasha, and suddenly they were all surrounded by a brilliant bright light, warm, and intense.

When the light faded, they were standing in what looked like a village, only the houses were strange-looking to the monk. They looked like they were made of stone, a strange grey stone, but there seemed to be no mortar. Windows were high off the ground - as if there were only windows on the second floors of buildings. He couldn't see any windows near the ground.  
The houses, or buildings, or whatever they were, were crowded close together, huddled as if frightened of something.  
Cobblestone lay underfoot.  
The sun had gone, and it was grey, and chilly. Miroku felt an instant dislike of where they stood.  
"Now then," Izumi said, looking around, "Where exactly have you brought us, Mikado?"  
"Just on the outskirts. We'll need a place to stay while the Council gathers."  
"Have you told them we're coming already?"  
Mikado nodded.  
Izumi smiled at her, "Well done."  
She beamed.  
"May I ask who it is we are going to be seeing?" Miroku asked. He kept his hand at his side, and he was trying very hard to ignore the fact there was something _living_ in his hand. It had taken him a while to accept the Wind Tunnel...this was something else altogether. A part of him kept expecting his hand to suddenly start aching, and have some horrible _thing_ come bursting out, snarling, looking for blood. He couldn't get that image out of his mind, of that single eye...  
"They're known as The Council. They're a group of sages - wise people who have spent a great deal of time studying and researching many different worlds. I'm certain they will have more information on a Void Dweller than I do," Izumi said.  
Mikado turned, and motioned for them to follow her, "I know a nice little inn we can stay at while we wait to be summoned. We can get something to eat and drink."  
Miroku fell into step behind Mikado, looking around. Everything seemed so strange to him here. The buildings were so tall. A heavy fog formed, rising only a few inches off the ground, making the monk feel almost dizzy.  
He followed Mikado into a short, squat building of what looked like grey brick. The door seemed to be made of some sort of metal.  
Inside, Miroku paused, looking around.  
The floor was hard wood, and polished by years, if not centuries, of feet. A huge fireplace stood against one wall, the fire within burning brightly.  
Bright blue.  
Tearing his eyes away from the flames, Miroku saw that there were many tables set up around the huge room - tables and chairs as the kind he saw once at Kagome's house. There were a few smaller, lower tables and cushions, the kind he was more used to, and it was to these that Mikado led them.  
He noticed some chairs had deep grooves running along the center of the seats. He couldn't figure out what that would be for. Some chairs and tables were enormous, each chair easily sitting two or even three people. Some chairs and tables were tiny, possibly made for children.  
The place seemed empty, save for a rather burly-looking person standing behind a long table at one end of the room. Glasses, cups, and other bowls and things were lined up on the table. The human, very pale with long yellow hair and a long scar over one eye, was polishing the table.  
Izumi lowered herself to one of the cushions, Mikado and Miroku following suit.  
"Is it safe to eat here?" Miroku asked, lowly. Tucked into the crook of his arm, Kirara mewed.  
"Only what we give you," Mikado said. She motioned towards the man behind the table, and he approached.  
As he drew nearer, Miroku suddenly realized he was even larger than he had originally thought. He must have been standing in some sort of dip or hole when he was at the table, for he was easily 7 feet tall if not taller. His chest was broad, and he had enormous muscles on his arms.  
_There must be Oni in him, surely,_ Miroku thought, trying hard not to stare.  
He listened as Mikado spoke to him in some unknown language, and the tall man grunted. He turned, and lumbered back to the table.  
Miroku leaned over, and whispered, "I have never seen a human like that before. Is he part Oni?"  
Mikado grinned, "Nope. Full human. He comes from a northern country, from your own world, called Denmark."  
"Surely not all humans there are as big as he is?"  
"Pretty close," Mikado chuckled, "They grow them big up there."  
The huge man came back with a tray carrying various bowls of food and drink, and had to crouch to lay it on their table. Mikado said something again to the huge man, and he suddenly grinned at her.  
Izumi blinked at the younger Senmin, and laughed, "Mikado! Have you no shame?!"  
Mikado laughed, "Not always, nope!"  
The tall man moved back to the table.  
Miroku picked up a cup of tea, gratefully sipping it to cover his confusion. After a second, he spoke.  
"We aren't in my world here, are we?"  
They looked at him.  
"You specified that man came from a country in _my_ world. That sort of indicates we aren't there anymore."  
Mikado smiled at Izumi, "He's quick."  
Izumi nodded at the monk, smiling, "You're right. We're in a different world, Miroku. This world is a hub, of sorts. Many different worlds meet up with this one, and many people have learned to cross between them. Here you will find humans, demons, and things you could never imagine. It is because of this...mingling...of different worlds, that the Council has gained such knowledge."  
"And what does this Council _do_?"  
"As I said, they are as Sages. They each have their own lives an businesses. One sells powerful spells. Another makes magical artifacts. A third creates something to do with ... well...it's called Quantum Mathematics, and I don't think I could explain it to you very well."  
"One spends all her time reading ancient texts looking for hidden secrets. She's found 17 different volumns of the exact same book written over 500 years apart, in 17 different languages, in 17 different worlds."  
Miroku blinked, "But...that's impossible."  
"Apparently not. She's looking to see if there's a 18th."  
Miroku blinked at her again, and took a sip of his tea, feeling very confused and lost.  
The door opened, and he looked up, blinking to see what looked like a giant walking lizard with wings come into the room.  
It was wearing a strange metal armor, and had long black claws. The scales were crimson and black, arranged in a tiger-like pattern.  
Miroku tensed, watching cautiously, getting ready to fight should there be a need. In the crook of his arm, Kirara growled softly.  
Izumi put a hand on the monk's arm, speaking softly, "No dear. He's no threat."  
Miroku gently patted Kirara until the small feline calmed slightly, "What is it?" he whispered.  
"Drey." Mikado said, "He'll abide by the no-fighting rules of this place, but trust us, you wouldn't want to fight him. They're as tough as hell to fight."  
The lizard-man walked to a chair, and eased himself into it, and Miroku now saw the reasoning for the long, deep groove in the seat of the chair. It allowed people with tails to sit easily.  
The creature settled itself, and looked up, directly at him.  
Miroku tensed.  
The creature - the Drey - seemed to freeze in place. It studied him in silence, then startled Miroku by dipping his head to him in a respectful gesture. The monk saw inner eyelids flick over the eyes just before the creature blinked. It hissed something in an unknown tongue.  
Mikado leaned over, and translated, "He's greeting you as a Holy Man. Apparently he recognises your robes and staff as your station."  
Miroku looked to Mikado, somewhat alarmed, "What do I do?"  
"Just nod in thanks," Mikado said, and Miroku did just that. The Drey then turned his attention to the tall human, and apparently ordered something to eat.  
Mikado smiled at Miroku, "You've just been given one hell of an honor, Miroku."  
Miroku blinked, "I have?"  
Izumi spoke, "Drey don't show much interest in the religions or spiritual beliefs of other species. They are very devoted to their own."  
"Surely he was simply picking up on you, as Senmin?"  
Mikado shook her head, "We're in another world, Miroku. Amaterasu doesn't have much pull here. Each world has it's own gods. I might have the _power_ to protect us, but Amaterasu's name doesn't have much pull here. I'd say he was just able to pick up on your spiritual power, and greeted you. Who knows, maybe he's a monk of his own kind."  
Miroku started to turn, to look back at the Drey, but Izumi gently took a hold of his arm, "Don't. They don't like being stared at. At all."  
"Ah. Understood," Miroku said, and finished his tea quietly.

It was a short time later that someone - human appearing, at least - entered the small place and approached them. They seemed to be wearing dark blue pants of some strange stiff material, and a white, short-sleeved shirt with what looked like a huge yellow circle with two black eyes and a smile. It resembled a child's drawing to the monk, although he had never seen a child make anyone's face that shade of yellow before, like a lemon. Her skin was a very dark color, and her hair short and curly. Miroku had never seen anyone looking quite like her before.  
She walked up to the table where they were sitting, and spoke to Mikado in yet another language he didn't know. It was a language he had heard Kagome speaking from time to time, as she poured over one of her textbooks.  
Mikado smiled at the other woman, apparently thanking her, and the other woman nodded and walked out.  
"The Council will see us now," Mikado said, draining her tea, and standing.  
Miroku spoke, "I honestly had no idea there were so many differences in the appearance humans could take."  
"We're a wonderfully varied lot," Mikado laughed, "I like Jennifer, she's friendly."  
"Where is it she comes from, if I may ask?" Miroku asked, standing up.  
"Long Island," the Senmin said, heading for the door.  
_Long Island. I wonder what country that island is off of? I've never seen it on any maps,_ Miroku wondered.  
They went outside, and Miroku saw the fog had lifted. The city still seemed oddly deserted.  
The monk followed behind Mikado, and before Izumi, finding a little comfort in being between the two ladies. They were familiar with this place, and he wasn't. The last thing he wanted was to inadvertantly offend someone here by simply not knowing the local customs.  
But he soon found there was no one to offend. The entire time they walked, he saw no one.  
They approached a huge building, seemingly made of red stone. It wasn't brick - Miroku had no idea what it was made from. The two giant doors were opened as they approached, and they went inside.


	3. The Council

They walked up a long hallway until they approached another set of double doors. Once again, they started to open before they neared them, but once they stepped inside, Miroku saw no one who could have opened them.  
Besides, he was too interested in the center of the room, and what it held.  
There was a _massive_ long table taking up almost the entirety of the room. All along one side of the table, sat 12 people.  
Miroku assumed they were people.  
Nine of them appeared to be human. They were of differeing sizes, colors, and appearances. One looked like some strange furry feline creature. One looked like a suit of armor with no one inside it, and the last looked like a floating red ball that glowed slightly.  
Miroku tried to keep his eyes on the table instead of staring at any one individual too long.  
"So, Senmin," one of the human-looking people spoke, "Why have you called us together?"  
She looked like an old woman, though she wasn't wrinkled or frail. If anything, she seemed very strong. Her hair was steel grey and pulled back into a tight bun. Her skin was a strange color; a pale lavender. Her face had a very aristocratic air about it, and her eyes were a vivid purple. Her voice was clear and strong.  
Mikado and Izumi bowed before the gathered people, Miroku hurriedly following suit.  
Mikado spoke, "We greet you, Council, and give to you our respects. We have with us one who has need of your assembled knowledge- " she inidcated Miroku - " -to overcome a most dire situation he has found himself in."  
"We are busy, Senmin," the furry feline-looking creature spoke, "And cannot be dragged away from our studies at your whim."  
"I think you will find this most interesting," Izumi spoke up, "This is something I am sure none of you have ever encountered before."  
The feline one snorted in disbelief.  
"This man," Izumi said, motioning to Miroku again, "Has a Void in his hand."  
Everyone sat up a little straighter, looking with interest at the monk.  
"And-" Mikado finished, "Lately, a Void Dweller has taken up residence within."  
"Preposterous!" the feline one announced, hotly.  
"Is this true, Senmin?" echoed the hollow-sounding voice of one of those gathered at the table. It was the one that looked like empty metal armor. Miroku tried to see without staring too openly, but he could see _gaps_ in the armor, gaps where one would normally see flesh. Yet the armor moved, showed signs of someone within.  
"It is," Mikado said, dipping her head again.  
"We will need to see this," another human-looking one said. He was a youngish-looking man with very black skin. His clothing was a long flowing robe with what looked like symbols in them. He was completely bald, and his long, slender fingers were interlaced as he regarded Miroku.  
"We can do this," Mikado agreed.  
"You have wasted our time," the feline one said again, looking annoyed, "I was in the middle of something very important!"  
"I assure you," Mikado said gently, "We have not-"  
At that moment, Kirara squirmed out from in under the monk's robes where she had been riding in comfort, and scrabbled up onto the monk's shoulder. She looked at the feline humanoid seated at the table, and hissed, puffing herself up like a giant fuzzball.  
The feline-looking humanoid blinked in shock for a second, then narrowed his eyes. He leaned forward, and spoke to Miroku, "Is this your...pet?"  
"Easy Kirara," Miroku said, taking up the small feline demon and gently petting her. He looked at the feline humanoid and spoke, "Pet? No. I don't think Kirara is anyone's "pet". She's a feline fire demon from my world. She has chosen to befriend someone dear to me, and as such has bonded with myself as well. For which I am grateful."  
Kirara settled down in the monk's hands, still looking somewhat put-out, but settling.  
The feline humanoid said something, in a language Miroku didn't understand. He realized he was speaking to Kirara, and not him.  
Kirara turned her head away from the feline humanoid with that lazy, haughty expression only cats seem to have mastered perfectly, and the feline humanoid smiled, revealing long, sharp teeth.  
"My apologies. I fear my studies have made me short tempered and sharp. Let us see what your problem is, human."  
_Thank you, Kirara. I'm not sure what you did, or said, but you turned him around neatly._  
"His problem is that he seems to have an impossibility," Izumi spoke.  
"This young man's name is Miroku. He has a...void...in his hand. He was born with it, the result of a curse placed upon his family."  
Those gathered around the table murmured amongst themselves, surprised and fascinated.  
"Would it be possible for us to see this void?"  
"In time, yes," Izumi answered. She hesitated, then spoke again, "It is not the void itself that brings us here, but what is apparently _in_ the void. It would appear Miroku has a Void Dweller living in his hand."  
Now they appeared shocked, and looked at each other, as if trying to make sense.  
"That's impossible!" one exclaimed.  
"We've seen it with our own eyes," Mikado replied.  
They fell silent.  
Izumi stepped forward, and spoke again, turning to look at Miroku, "Do you mind, dear?"  
"I suppose seeing _is_ believing."

Once again, Miroku found himself standing with his hand out, palm up, Wind Tunnel uncovered. There were several gathered around him, peering down into his hand as Mikado made sure the barrier was in place.  
Miroku himself was _not_ looking at his hand, not really wanting to see that eye looking back out at him again. Once was enough.  
There were some murmured conversation, and then they pulled back, allowing the monk to re-apply the prayer beads. He felt better when they stopped staring at him.  
Izumi stood behind him as they waited for the Council to sit again, murmuring to each other in a series of different languages.  
"So," Izumi spoke, "Can you help us?"  
They talked a few seconds more, then turned as one to look at the three before them.  
"You want it removed, I assume?" asked the apparently empty suit of armor.  
"Yes, of course," Miroku said, "As quickly as possible. Have you any idea how it even got inside there?"  
"Well..." one human-looking one spoke, the one that looked like an elderly, lavender woman, "I can honestly say that I have never encountered anything this extraordinary, Miss Izumi. Void Dwellers are _extremely_ rare, and to find one living in a person, well..."  
"It would appear Zoharu's theory is correct," spoke another human-looking one, "All voids must be somehow interconnected."  
"That is impossible," spoke the small, glowing, ball of light. It's voice was high and pure, sounding very like a child. The ball of light softly flashed as it spoke, "There is simply too much void. If they were interconnected, we would see many more Dwellers."  
"Not so," spoke the feline-looking one, "You are forgetting Damassas' rule, that all non-existing areas, such as voids-"  
"Council, please," Mikado spoke, "I know this must be fascinating for you all, but not so for Miroku. He simply wants it removed. Do you have any ideas?"  
They all fell silent, glancing at each other. Miroku started to have a bad feeling about it all.  
"Well...to be honest..."  
"I'm not sure..."  
The feline-looking one spoke again, "No. To be blunt, no. No one here knows enough about them."  
Miroku's heart sunk.  
"However, we _do_ know someone else who does. He has spent a very long time studying such rare and strange creatures. If anyone will know, he will."  
"Who is this person?" Mikado asked.  
"His name is Retorares."  
Behind him, the monk heard Izumi speak, her voice suddenly sounding wary, "A strange name."  
"Perhaps. Yet it is his name all the same. The Illithid can be found-"  
_"Illithid?!"_ Miroku heard Izumi's gasp. She laid her hands on his shoulders, in a protective gesture, "Surely you're joking."  
"We are not," the small ball of light spoke again, "The Illithid is the only one we know of with the knowledge of Void Dwellers. If you wish it to be removed, you must speak to him. And you are running out of time."  
"What do you mean, running out of time?" Miroku asked, growing alarmed.  
The small glowing ball spoke, "Void Dwellers exist in a space nothing else can possibly survive in. We do not know how. They survive by devouring whatever has been unlucky enough to exist in there with them. Other, smaller Dwellers, for instance. Tell me, Holy Man, have you ever sucked up anything into this void in your hand?"  
Miroku started to feel cold, "Yes. I have used it as a weapon."  
The other murmured amongst themselves.  
The ball spoke, "The Void Dweller will devour everything you have sucked into the void. Everything. Rocks, trees, things that were once alive. As it eats, it will grow. If it becomes too big, it will not be able to be pulled from your hand."  
Miroku stared, horrified.

Behind him, Izumi spoke again, her voice sounding tense and strained, a tone the monk was not used to hearing from her, "With all your knowledge, surely you know of someone else with the wisdom we seek. To suggest we take Miroku to an _Illithid_-!"  
"Retorares is, as I have said, the only one we know of with the knowledge of Void Dwellers. If you wish this removed from the monk's hand, you must seek him out."  
"But we-"  
"Miss Izumi," the child-sounding little ball of light spoke, "You do not have the luxury of time. While your obvious dislike of Illithids is understandable, your emotions are causing your human friend to waste valuable time. You came to us for help. For advice. This is our advice. Seek out Retorares for assistance."  
There was a deafening pause, and then, behind him, Miroku heard Izumi's voice, lower, and apparently chastised.  
"You are right, of course, Beltranissamarto. I thank you, and The Council, for their aid. I ask one more thing of you...directions to...Retorares' dwelling. I assume he lives on this plane?"  
"He does not," came the echo-y voice of the empty suit of armor, "He lives on a distant plane."  
"If you give me some form of reference," Mikado said, "I can take us there."  
"There will be no need," the small ball of light said, drifting away from the table and towards them, "I will send you there myself, directly. I will take you to a path that leads to his dwelling."  
Izumi's voice sounded awed, "A great honour, Beltranissamarto."  
The little ball of light laughed, a soft peal of joy and delight, "I have enjoyed this monk's voice and soul. He is rare."  
Miroku blinked.  
"Plus," the little ball of light said, mischeviously, "It isn't often one gets to see the great and powerful Kul'tar so berated by one so small."  
Behind him, the Council members grinned, save for the feline-looking one, who looked somewhat put-out.  
The little ball of light rose, and hovered over the little group. It started to glow brightly.  
Suddenly, the child's voice was inside the monk's head, speaking.  
_'A war is coming to your world. Powerful. Death, and ruin. Dark times lie ahead. A great attack is coming. Many will die. A terrible devastation. But not as expected. It will be in your blind spot, monk. Keep alert.'_  
Miroku blinked, startled, but before he could say anything else, the light grew to an intense, blinding beam, and he was blinded.  
Seconds later, the light dwindled, then died, and blinking the after efects away, Miroku saw he was in a completely different world.  
This place was dark, and the air was warm and damp. Rocks rose out of the ground around him, the walls around him seemingly made of stone as well. Some sort of mushroom or fungus grew in small cracks and crevasses, fungus that glowed softly, bringing a pale green light to the surroundings.  
"Are we in a cave?" Miroku asked, rubbing his eyes. It was taking a while to adjust his vision after the intense light of the little ball.  
"Of a sort," Mikado said. She brushed off a rock, and sat, "Sit down for a few minutes, Miroku. We'll need our night eyes for this trip."  
Miroku settled down on a projecting boulder, "Forgive me, but can't you just..." he waved his hands in some obscure motion, and Mikado burst out laughing.  
"You guys always do that. Wave your hands around like you're waving away flies. Yes, I _can_ use my powers to make a light, but it will have to be very faint. Otherwise it will attract attention."  
"Attention?"  
"There are things that live down here, dear, that we'd rather not attract," Izumi said.  
The monk looked alarmed, "Things that powerful?"  
"Well...powerful, yeah, but not too hard for me. But it would take too long to stop them, not to mention it would attract _other_ people that we'd avoid if possible."  
"I don't understand," Miroku said, patting Kirara.  
"There are a few peoples that live down here," Izumi said, "Not human, but similar. They worship darkness, and are rather...unpleasant people. They would likely know who Mikado and I worship. And while they wouldn't offer any real threat to us as Mikado could easily defend us, they would attack and attack, happily killing themselves in the process."  
"Even knowing they can't win?"  
"It's their way," Izumi said.  
"Who are these people?" Miroku asked.  
Mikado started talking, "Well, they've been called Dark Elves, or Drow, but-"  
"It's not important," Izumi interrupted, casting Mikado a stern glance. She then smiled at Miroku, "No offense, dear one, but sometimes it's for the best if people from completely different worlds remain ignorant of each other."  
"I see," Miroku said, feeling oddly defensive, like a child who had just had his hand slapped for reaching into a treat bowl.  
He spoke again, "And yet it is ok if I meet this...Ith...Il.."  
"Illithid," Mikado corrected.  
Miroku noticed Izumi shuddered as if suddenly cold. He spoke again, "Lady Izumi, you said, 'live down here'. How far underground are we?"  
Izumi looked stricken.  
Mikado burst out laughing, "Damnit, monk, you're sharp. You can't hide much from him, Izumi."  
Izumi sighed, and rubbed her face with a hand, "We're quite far down, Miroku. This world exists below the feet of others, far above. It's known as the Underdark, and all manner of unpleasant things exist down here. Including Illithid. And believe me when I say if there was any other way, I wouldn't have you go anywhere near one."  
"What are they, exactly?"  
"Foul," Izumi answered swiftly, disgust in her voice, "Foul and corrupt and evil. A race that should have never been allowed to exist."  
Miroku blinked, a little shocked.  
"Izumi," Mikado murmured, "It's not up to us to decide such things."  
Izumi looked away, and as his night vision improved, he was alarmed to see she was trembling slightly.  
"Miroku," Mikado said gently, "Illithid are...well...no one really knows what they are. It's not even known if they were _created_, if they belong to this world or if they came here from another place...no one knows. But they are intelligent. They are so intelligent it is beyond comprehension. The things they know..."  
"What do they look like?"  
Pause.  
"They are...somewhat human in appearance. Two legs. Two arms. A head...all that. They are...physically...frail in appearance. Their arms and legs are thin. But their faces..."  
Pause.  
"Their skin is usually blue, or purple. Sort of...like a frog's. They have no whites to their eyes, and they have no mouths-"  
"No mouths?"  
"Well, they have a mouth, but it..."  
Izumi spoke, her voice hard and sharp, "They have a mouth, Miroku, that is surrounded by tentacles. Think of an octopus sitting atop a human-like body. The tentacles help it feed."  
Silence. Miroku's skin started to crawl, "And...what does it feed on?"  
"They are known by another name," Izumi said, "They are also called MindFlayers."  
"They eat thoughts," Mikado said, softly, "They're known as Psionics. They can often read minds, and can take over someone's body by ... compelling them to do things...even things against their nature. They can kill you without touching you, just by shattering your mind with their own."  
Mikado stared at Mikado, horrified.  
"They also eat brains, don't forget that part," Izumi said, her voice a little shrill, "and leave their victims mindless slaves, doing whatever they're told."  
Another terrible pause.  
"If they...eat brains..." Miroku said quietly, trying to make sense of what he was hearing, "Surely the people are killed? If the head is...is opened for access to the brains..."  
"They don't open the head at all," Izumi said, angry and shrill, "That's what the tentacles are for."  
"Izumi-" Mikado tried to stop her.  
"They just slip those tentacles right up the nose and-"  
"Izumi!"  
The former Senmin suddenly stood up, and wrapped her arms around herself, and started pacing, "We should not be here, Mikado."  
Miroku watched her, horrified, and willing his stomach not to dump it's contents.  
"You know I can protect us, Izumi," Mikado said gently.  
The taller woman shook her head - but not as a denial of Mikado's skills, more just a denial of the whole mess, and turned, walking a short distance away, back on to them, head down, shuddering.  
Mikado sighed, and walked to Miroku, "I'm sorry."  
"She...she's very frightened of them, isn't she?"  
Mikado nodded, "Everyone has a fear, Miroku. Something they're terrified of, maybe even for no reason. Spiders. Bats. Ghosts. It's something that for some reason reaches down into the primal part of us, and triggers a strong fear. For Izumi, it's Illithids. It's always been that way, from the very first time she became aware of their existance."  
"Was she ever attacked?"  
"No. As I said, Illithid are very smart, and they easily sensed her power, and had no desire to attack. It's just one of those things. They terrify her. And right now, with no power, it's worse for her.  
She's scared for you."  
Miroku looked at the Senmin.  
"Izumi makes friends far too easily, and she likes you and your friends. And right now, she feels very helpless to protect you."  
"But you said you were capable of-"  
"I did, and I am. That doesn't mean she doesn't feel helpless."  
Miroku paused, and then nodded, "More alike InuYasha than she knows, I think."  
Mikado nodded.  
There was a pause, and then Izumi turned around, and walked back. Her face was set.  
"Well, if we're ready, we might as well start."


End file.
